This is not going to be a post you are used to seeing on this blog. It’s not a post I am used to writing. However, it’s one I feel compelled by recent events to write, having come to the realization, last week, that silence – no matter its reasons – is not an option. It’s cowardice, or complacency, or acquiescence, or implicit support; all things I cannot live with. So. I am writing this post knowing that I will probably not be able to say the right things, in the right way. Words matter, and I have always tried to be careful about how I use them; better to say nothing than to say the wrong thing. At least, that used to be my approach. Today, I have to put that aside and say what needs to be said.
Black lives matter.
What happened in Minneapolis last week – and in other parts of the US stretching back too long – is not acceptable. The murder of George Floyd at the hands of a police office, sworn to protect, is an unspeakable crime that cries for justice. If we have reached the point when people feel that violent protest is the only avenue of communication left, something is deeply, fundamentally broken in our society. One of the best explanations I’ve seen to date is an IGTV segment that Trevor Noah shared last week. I encourage you all to watch it. [If I can figure out how to link it, I will add it here.] In it, he talks about the social contract and the consequences of having it violated, again and again, against black people. This perspective puts a different lens on the protests that are now happening in the US (and other parts of the world) and the (justifiable) rage and betrayal that black people are feeling.
Is it difficult, as a white person, to observe that outpouring on social media and elsewhere? Yes. It’s human nature to want to defend, justify, absolve oneself of guilt and shame. But, you know, it’s probably infinitely less difficult than watching society trample upon its promises to you, as a citizen – as regards the protection of your basic human rights – while feeling powerless to do anything about it. So my self-work over the past week has been to push aside my own feelings and tackle the difficult. Listen to black and other minority voices. Reflect on their words, without giving in to the impulse to self-justify or talk over. Amplify their voices to the extent that I can. Learn what I can do better. Learn what I can do to actively help, as opposed to passively support.
Some of my action items (for fellow white folks who are interested): seek out BIPOC artists and content creators, listen to their stories, support (financially and otherwise) their work. Share black voices on my social media. Talk to my children and my family about what it means to be anti-racist. Donate to organizations that work with and support BIPOC (and LGBTQ) in their communities.
And in doing my (small) part, there is one guiding principle that I try to keep in mind at all times. It’s a lesson I have been slowly learning over the last ten years; a hard lesson that needs to be constantly re-learned and practiced.
Stay humble.
I say it’s hard because I am a naturally proud person. And, worse, intellectually proud. Being proud is not the same thing as being arrogant, and it doesn’t have to be a bad thing, necessarily. But it can have problematic effects. It can create blindspots. It can create intransigence. It makes it really hard to admit you’re wrong. That you don’t know everything. That you don’t have all the answers. That there are valid perspectives different than your own. Conversely, humility means accepting the possibility of all those things. It does not mean putting others’ opinions above your own. It means being willing to listen, consider, adjust, learn, grow.
Listening is the first step and is itself much harder than it sounds. If you will allow me to generalize for a moment, people are not good at listening. We are good at hearing what others are saying with one ear while simultaneously formulating a mental response, defence, or justification that will allow us to avoid changing our pre-existing opinions. Opposing views, in particular, are seen as a direct threat to our personal value system; I see this on social media all the time: merely stating a preference (no matter how innocuous the topic) can generate a flood of comments from people who somehow feel their own personal choices are under attack. The current political climate has exacerbated this tendency. Some days, it feels like everyone is shouting into the void, and no one is listening even as we are all going deaf.
So yeah, staying humble. It’s constant work because the world will constantly challenge your capacity for humility. If it’s not, you’re doing something wrong. Living in an echo chamber, a bubble. But living that way out of fear is no way to live either. Being wrong is human; in some ways, it’s the flip side of our amazing capacity to learn, grow, adapt. I have spent my whole life being afraid of being wrong, and only recently started to do the work to embrace that fear and move past it. Pride, the fear of being wrong, all of that is ego, and Buddhism tells us that ego is an illusion. I may be a failing Buddhist, but that is one lesson I try to remember every day.
From that lens, we can see that white fragility is the shackles of ego but unlike most self-illusions, it’s one that can have very real, and very terrible consequences for others. If you want to see a stark example of white fragility in action, watch the video taken by Christian Cooper of his encounter with Amy Cooper (no relation) in Central Park. A person asking you to leash your dog in an on-leash area is not a personal attack. Yet, in making that entirely justified request, Christian Cooper was lucky to avoid negative consequences. Lucky not because he deserved anything different; lucky because many other black people’s experiences have had a different outcome.
I will end here because it’s not my words you need to hear at this time. Instead, I encourage you to seek out and listen to black and other minority voices – in your community, on social media, in the mass media you consume – and give their perspective the proper consideration they deserve.
