Moving on, moving forward
Dear friends, followers, and sustainers of Lace on Race:
I have been thinking a lot, a lot, about friendship; what it means, what it takes, why it’s important, what it costs us.
I have been thinking about the friendships I have forged in this space. This space, created out of thin air a little over a year ago.
Nothing I can say here can convey my gratitude for the faith and trust you have placed in Lace on Race. The time you have given, the questions you have pondered, the conversations started, the lives changed. There are times I cannot believe all that we have co-created together.
Which is why it is time for us to move. We are bigger, our ideas and dreams bigger, our convictions and praxis stronger than the Facebook page we gestated here.
A few months ago, we decided that it was time for us to think about an actual website, one where we could more easily control content, which would no longer be subject to Facebook’s whims.
Facebook has been useful, but it has not always been our friend. We are suppressed in the Facebook universe. If you have liked and or followed us here at Lace on Race, know that you are in something of a hostage situation—in order to reach those who like and follow we have to pay to boost—when they approve us that is, which is never a sure thing. As many posts are rejected than are accepted. The first months, a not insignificant amount of time was spent in convincing Facebook that Lace on Race, despite my mug being front and center, was not a white supremacist site, because who else would talk about race?
During the major midterm election cycle, we were determined to be a political site, and faced even more scrutiny.
That compromises the eyes that can see what we are doing; limits the hearts and minds we can reach. And what we have forged here is worth sharing.
Scrutiny we can handle. Suppression we cannot. It is not arrogance to say that what we have here is different than anywhere else that I have seen. Our way can seem slow and plodding, but we are also about robust and reliable–and durable– resilience and steadfastness. Our eschewing flameouts of heat in favor of sustainable light have served us well.
Our belief in our walk, and in each other, and in the vision we refuse to turn from is what will move the needle. Not just in ourselves, but in every other person we touch.
It is not hubris to say that our voices in the conversation are needed. It is not grandiose to say that the influence we are curating and gestating will garner great dividends in the years—yes, I said years, we continue doing this work together.
We need each other. We need to learn how to do this work with unwavering spirit, and we need to feel in our marrow that our way—internal work with depth and reflection, does indeed result in external praxis that will change our world, our workplaces, our families, and ourselves.
I, Lace, have had the singular pleasure of reading and responding to your messages; have had the privilege of watching each of you move and grow and change—many with significant steps; some with astounding leaps. I have had the deep satisfaction of knowing that what I was convinced could happen did—that by engaging with kind candor, loving accountability, intellectual rigor, and resilient presence, that we could create a space in which people would resonate, be attracted to and connect with a vision and an ethos they always had, but were not always sure how, or even if, they could gestate themselves.
They were right to wonder. One of the guiding thoughts of this place is that the walk simply cannot be done alone. This is not a singular endeavor. We learn relational ethics by—wait for it—being in relationship. We learn accountability by vulnerability. We learn risk by disclosure. We learn acceptance by enfolding. We learn how to be to and with the Other, more and more, until there is no longer Other. We cast our lots in with kindred spirits, and we learn and teach and wrestle and argue with people who we know will not leave us on this walk.
And you have indeed stayed. Our numbers keep growing, to our unabashed delight. Not because of what we do, although we do a lot, collectively and individually. But because of who we are, and who we are becoming. This has been one of the biggest gifts of the last year. That you, and you, and you, who have self-selected in have not opted out. I thank you, and hope that we have served you well, and that you will continue to serve you, and be awed by your responses and the deep work you are doing.
And again, we need you. As we have gotten bigger, we have, in addition to the beloved Gaggle, who provide counsel and accountability to Lace, we have added what in other places might be called a staff, but here we call it a circle of servants—to you, to the vision of a world that challenges and confronts supremacy—to this beloved space itself. We now have an administrator/editor who keeps Lace on point, which is no small feat (imagine corraling me!), a webmaster whose work has been selfless and exemplary, and a development guru who, with your assistance and support, will insure that Lace on Race is poised for long term and durable sustainability.
This will allow Lace to do what she does best and loves most: writing, researching, finding outside resources, engaging with readers, writing curriculum and resources that can be shared, conferences. It is difficult writing and keeping track of all the new details that encompass this endeavor; no less difficult is it for Lace to worry about sustaining this space. To write without fear or compromise, she wants to do, and indeed must do, two things at once: to both see your faces before me as I write and engage, and also to sort of forget about you, in the sense of worrying about ticking people off, and losing support. I cannot be a complete truthteller when I am afraid. I cannot both write to you and be wary of you, or worse, pander to you. I also need to be able to give this my full attention, and not take freelance jobs, or even to work at my dream job Del Taco (for the discount on Macho fries). This is already almost (actually, it is) full time work.
There is also the issue of valuing, truly valuing the work of women of color. This has, and I have said this more than once, this has become the biggest nut to crack–inviting you to understand the deep practice of tangibly valuing what is provided, both to continue the work, and for the underlying politics of valuing the work of women of color, and acknowledging that your approbation is not enough (those infernal likes and hearts, and even the kind reviews and recommendations), and that believing in that falsehood–that white people liking you and approving of you is in itself a prefered form of currency) is the work of supremacy–something worth reflecting upon, and confronting, and ultimately dismantling.
It is a hard truth that the people who are able to be self sustaining in work around race are mostly, actually almost exclusively white. And while I appreciate Tim and Robin and the rest, that is something that deserves contemplation and interrogation.
It is all a risk, and a big one. We are doubling down, because we are convinced to our collective marrow that we owe you our best, so you can give your best to your Self and to others, and that we are doing something that no one else has done.
It has become a crowded field, hasn’t it—this work of racial justice. So many good voices, which with the website, we can provide in a dedicated space (we have a resources tab!), and with whom we want to commission pieces that align with our mission—Lace is beyond grateful that you have welcomed her voice, but we are aware that there other voices to be amplified. We want to do that, and we want to pay those who contribute to this space.
So if there are so many, why this one? Because we decided, early on, that most spaces are proscriptive—they tell us what not to do; who not to be. But breaking strongholds are hard, and tools are needed to do it well. To be *prescriptive*, that is, to invite you, and us, and others, to new ways of thinking and being in this world is not often seen. Which is why our niche has a place. We have long said that, while the *what* we do is important, and vital, and in these increasingly dark times, crucial, the *how* is every bit as important, and this: that Who We Are as we do this work is the most important thing.
So when I ask you for comments, when I discourage what can seem to be mindless hearts and likes in favor of mindful engagement; when I encourage you to stay in a thread even when it’s beyond hard, when I challenge assumptions, and invite you to think hard about not just what you do, but also your internal life, your resistance, your ambivalences, your contradictions, it is for a reason.
To do this work with resilient reliability requires your best self, as much as it requires mine. It requires that you put skin in the game, that you abide, not just consume.
This takes resources, that I have been reluctant to ask for, because I have been afraid of losing reach. I have been afraid of losing you. But the asking, or rather the *not asking* in these past months have not served you well. Not at all.
We have limited the opportunity of your participating in a tangible way the preservation and the continuation of this living thing. It has reinforced this community and this work, for some of you, as little more than entertainment. It has kept you a spectator, when you need to learn how to suit up and show up for what you say you believe in and want.
So when we ask you for funds, know that there is a purpose in that too. It is not to make you roll your eyes or clench or feel resentful. It is trusting in your own conviction that this space is worth it, that this community is worth it, that, yes, the woman you say you follow is worth it.
And it is a practice. A discipline. We say we want women of color in leadership; we say we will do whatever it takes to get there. But regardless of what we say, we need to be ready to step up in real ways; and this is a way to do that, and to learn to do it ever better.
So yes, asks; gentle but real anticipations that the work is worth doing together. And maybe not asks, maybe the proactive acknowledgement that the work is worth doing without being asked. An affirmation of both the space and the urgency of the moment. What we have is too important not to share and too important for me to shirk the responsibility of facing you squarely.
To close, this weekend you will see more posts, describing the website, and what you can do to help; to outline ways to walk with each other in even more intimate ways; to talk about the relational.
To be the people we know we can be, in a space we are co creating and offering to the world.
This is so exciting! And a little terrifying. Remember to pack your toothbrush!
As always, deep gratitude for walking with me.
To get you in the habit of seeing it (hopefully without eyerolls) and responding to it, dropping the link below.
Your Lace