A quiet welp, but a welp nonetheless.
How *do* we have this conversation?
How does it land for each and every cohort? Is a wistfulness allowed and acknowledged? Is there integrity that means to be intact here?
We, meaning North America, we understand oppression.
We understand subjugation.
We understand being relegated to second-class status.
We understand neighborhoods and entire cities can be deemed disposable, and therefore extinguishable, by an oppressor.
We understood the need to be seen and stood with. Vocally. Overtly.
We understand that people can have no blood ties to an area; no blood ties to a people, but still affirm and assert the humanity of that people.
No shared history; after all, people named O’Leary and de Stefano and Walters and Degroot are not directly responsible or accountable to the people who are being, right leg, raised up, affirmed, and seen. They are right to do so.
But this is where the ‘welp’ comes in.
Only *certain* people. Really allow this to sink in. Truly confront this. And truly confront the overarching message.
There are cohorts here in North America who see this. Who see dominant culture. Who compare and contrast, and rightfully so, who compare and contrast their experience that is relegated to two months out of the year oh, and maybe a Cinco De Mayo or a black spring or two, but then who are then relegated to the sidelines.
We see this.
And the questions that this raises in and for cohorts not deemed emphatically and unequivocally human by vast swaths of those who claim European heritage are valid ones.
The irony is not lost on us as we finish the month that celebrates Black people, before we settle back to an enforced amnesia of the past, and continued subjugation in the present oh, and a future truncated and foreclosed because of North America’s collective turning away, denial, and minimization.
We understand-dominant culture can absolutely understand, when it chooses to, the need for material as well as metaphorical support and sacrifice. We see it all here. But what dominant culture here in North America have collectively failed to do is to generalize all of this knowledge, these realizations, this empathy and compassion, to those whom they either face, or not, in their own claimed countries, every day.
Psychologically, it is absolutely understandable. We feel for and empathize with and stand *for who we choose to*, but that choice has always had, and still has, an asterisk attached.
We feel for and sympathize with those *we are taught* to empathize with; those whose Humanity *we learn* to acknowledge and embrace.
And for those whose Humanity has always been called into question, whose personhood has always been conditional, those for whom empathy and compassion and solidarity from dominant culture has always been conditional and provisional an intermittent, this lack of generalization is a brutal reminder that the work that the vast majority of white people think is finished, is still extant.
Which brings us back to a wistfulness.
Allow me to tell you a story. There is a woman I know who has had, let us just say, who has had, and still has, a ‘challenging’ relationship with her father. I watched her break her bread into so many tiny pieces as she told me about the rejection and invalidation she received from him as early as her teenage years still continuing into her forties.
She is admirable and remarkable; a savvy woman, a resourceful woman, and she has indeed found the validation and the love she did not get from her father in other voices and other faces, but there has always been a hole.
The story that she told herself about this dynamic was that he was absolutely incapable of feeling the love that she needed, of being the friend and the champion that she needed, and in so doing she was able to find context and compassion for her father.
But then her father was blessed with a granddaughter.
And all that my friend had hoped for but never received was there in stark relief; the lack of love she endured; the contempt with which her father treated her standing in sharp contrast to the way her father treated his granddaughter, her niece. All of the attention, all of the ability to be fully present and engaged, all of the positive regard that she never received.
On the one hand she was, and is, happy for the granddaughter, her niece.
Every child and young woman should receive what the granddaughter receives.
Every granddaughter should be met with shining eyes and an offer of cold soda.
Every granddaughter deserves to have the TV turned off and the paper put down so she can talk and talk and talk.
This is an easy pivot.
So, yes, a wistfulness.
It is possible to hold two things in one hand, and I dearly hope that one day dominant culture in North America will durably learn and internalize this truth. Instead, North America is doing what it is always done; cherishing and succoring one cohort at the eternal expense of others.
It’s a false choice.
As it is possible to be an environmentalist, and also put equal effort and priority into a racial Justice practice, just as it is possible to love animals without invalidating and abandoning your commitment to brown and black humans oh, so it is possible to support what is happening in the Here and Now, with what has always happened here.
This is a big deal. And make no mistake. There is indeed inadvertent harm being perpetuated.
It is possible for us to be in support and solidarity for a cohort of people while being wistful- knowing the brutal truth about the positive regard and solidarity will never be extended to us. Hear this well.
Black and brown and Indigenous people are having this silent internal conversation every day. And it’s a conversation that needs to happen. So we will have it here.
Your thoughts are welcome. And expected.
Join us in the Bistro for the discussion.
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It has to be a both/and… fighting against the inequities here with as much fervor as I advocate and contribute elsewhere. What we are doing elsewhere must be an extension of what we are already doing here first. The personal flex’s that I see here are, ‘here is something new to focus on so I don’t have to look at what’s happening underneath my nose’. Or ‘hey I’ll talk about how bad racism is with my friends or in my household but I won’t call my boss out on it at work’. The both/and.It has to be a both/and… fighting against the inequities here with as much fervor as I advocate and contribute elsewhere. What we are doing elsewhere must be an extension of what we are already doing here first. The personal flex’s that I see here are, ‘here is something new to focus on so I don’t have to look at what’s happening underneath my nose’. Or ‘hey I’ll talk about how bad racism is with my friends or in my household but I won’t call my boss out on it at work’. The both/and.
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A wistfulness, yes, because our country, and particularly white people, have never learned not to compartmentalize or be inclusive. Black History month is only one month of the year, indeed the shortest month, even though Black history happens 365 days a year. Each Black History Month, white people come close to acknowledging Black people’s humanity, recogizing how much their tired hands have done, but not close enough. We treat Black History month like the Black Spring – sudden interest, “efforts” to be “inclusive”, and then as the month closes it all fizzles out again…to be continued next February. I wonder if part of the wistfulness Black and brown people experience is the ned to be fully seen and valued, and a small hope that maybe, this Black History month, things will be different. Maybe we white people will open the door, more than a fraction, enough to realize that true inclusion is a daily practice not limited to one month per year. What would it look like to authentically celebrate Black history by picking up the load carried by Black and brown people for so long, making changes happen that they have been fighting for? How can I, in my life and work, do my part to keep the door open 365 days a year? In some ways, it seems that the prayers anpoems I write have offered small doses of healing, or at the very least, a mustard seed of hope. However, writing is not enough in itself, I need to also reach out in the community, speak up, and applywhat I have been practicing here. As a healthcare chaplain, I think healthcare equity is one necessary avenue.
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I still notice myself slipping into good/bad categorizations, as if a person or an organization failing in one area though doing good work in other areas makes that person and that organization just as bad or maybe even worse than a person or organization who does nothing with good intention. Canceling like that is easier, after all. It requires little critical thought and no effort to help improve the growth areas. I think this sort of thinking also contributes to ignoring things like systemic racism because it’s everywhere and if we’re used to cancelling instead of contributing to improvement, but we can’t cancel everything, then we go from cancelling to ignoring or to vehemently defending why it’s fine even though we know it really isn’t. If it’s not an either/or situation, then we can put the work in and contribute to improvement rather than cancelling or ignoring.
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An interesting point about cancelling. Dominant culture just wants inconvenient realities to go away. So we’ll throw money at things, or cancel them, over simplify, or do any number of other things to not have to actually deal with the truth. It’s a form of denial, I think.
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While it never mentions it specifically, this definitely reminds me of the widespread and unanimous support for Ukraine. Ukraine is easy to stand for in the U.S. because it doesn’t take any effort or sacrifice besides some small monetary donations. There’s a clear set of heroes and villains in people’s minds and no one is losing anything socially to align themselves with the “heroes.” Dealing with marginalized groups in the U.S. itself requires white people look at history and really think about why those groups are marginalized historically and today, especially Black people. And then us as white people have to face our own personal history and our current behavior in the context of that. None of that reflection is required to support Ukraine.
In addition, as the media coverage has shown, white people see themselves more in the photos of the Ukrainian people than they do in photos of American cities. The media coverage calls them “largely civilized” and “European,” as if people in other countries deserve war or are at least used to it. Or if people in our own country deserve poverty because of the color of their skin. That’s exactly why there’s no social struggle or sacrifice.
In addition, people aren’t willing to even show an extended emotional effort. Now that the war is continuing past that initial week, coverage and concern is both dying off. Even for a topic that’s “easy,” the behavior is the opposite of the relentless reliability we talk about here. I know concern fatigue is real. But I think Lace’s focus on action rather than just feelings shows us how burnout is because we’re being microwaves instead of woks and not really living out our values in useful ways.
As for the environmentalist piece at the end, I have learned so much as an environmentalist from the Black and Indigenous environmental justice advocates. They’ve really illustrated how everything is connected and the most marginalized people are the most hurt by environmental harm.
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White people jumping out of their seats (as far as they ever jump for anything that doesn’t benefit them anyway) in support of Ukraine while staying silent to the harm they themselves perpetuate to Black and brown people every day must feel like another punch. And sadly, it’s probably an expected punch for people of color as supremacy twists attention towards other white people. I’m locating myself in this in not being able to hold onto multiple things at once well and not focusing on those who are right beside me and the work right in front of me. That lack of focus, making excuses that there is “too much”, and resulting lack of action are the ways that I tell myself I’m ready to ride but the reality is that I’m looking to ride the brakes.
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