I have gone back and forth over the last 10 days about writing right now. I have had fits and starts over just beginning to even think about what to say. After all, my thoughts aren't the ones we need to read. Nor should we mistake in any way my words or reflections for self-promotion or self-importance. White people have been promoted and important for far too long.
But, for the last several weeks, I have used the act of writing as a process to think and reflect. Maybe even make a decision or two. So if you have come to read or reflect with me, understand that this post (while public) is simply a holding place where I leave some record of the complexity in life right now. I hope that this act of putting my fingers to the keyboard can help provide my own meditation for learning, growing, sharing, and taking action. Maybe I don't get it exactly right, and I'm sure other revelations will emerge, but this is a start.
Since March I have been tied to the headlines. I have worried about people dying in my own community and around the world as a result of the global pandemic. I have worried about the health and safety of my loved ones. I have worried about my own health and safety. And for that, I have chosen to approach this time conservatively, staying at home. Wearing my mask whenever possible. Washing my hands 100 times a day for 20 seconds. You get the drill.
And in the weeks since the deaths of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd, I have become tied to another tier of headlines. Worried about people dying in my own community and around the world. Worrying about the health and safety of those I love. But in those worries are caveats, because I don't need an app that notifies me if my husband gets stopped by the police. I never had the talk with my parents about what I'm wearing when I go shopping. Aside from being a woman, I mostly live with the luxury of not worrying about my own health or safety by merely existing in this world. It is clear that there is no amount of hand-washing to prevent the disease that has ailed our nation for 400 years.
And, as someone who is exhausted of watching our country and the larger world fail its people again and again, I have grown impatient with my own inaction around this pandemic of racism.
So, here I sit. Safely distant from others because I believe in being an active participant to "protect" my community and those I love. But as we have all been given a bit of extra time in this stay-at-home season, here is how I'm deciding to take action. Again, this is not about self-aggrandizement, nor is it a ploy to seek affirmation or "attagirls." I'm simply writing to myself, as a solemn promise with the will to act.
I will listen. This involves sitting in both the uncomfortable quiet and audible harsh realities that I cannot know or assume to know. I will ask questions, make an effort to not center myself in these conversations, and take care seeking understanding.
I will speak. Knowing that listening is primarily important, I know that speaking is not far behind. Words are important, and our ability to communicate with care is an important example of how we can play an active role in this movement. I will speak with both my vote and with my wallet. I will use my voice in my job, in my family, with my friends, and in my shouted prayers to the heavens.
I will read. I readily accept the fact that people around me poke fun at my desire to learn and know through reading (mostly because of the stack of books strewn through our home that haven't yet been opened). But reading stories from people of color, learning histories I was not taught, and delving into subjects unfamiliar to me can challenge my viewpoint and extend my own curiosities about our very complicated world and my commitment to anti-racism. Knowing is so important.
I will watch. I will watch media produced by people of color, documentaries that tell stories I should hear and see, and most importantly, I will look for evidence of racism in the world around me and play my part to shine a light on what goes unseen. We can't uncover the thing we aren't looking for.
I will feel. I know that my feelings aren't and should never be at the center of this movement for justice and equality, but that shouldn't discount the importance of what this moment makes each one of us feel. Is it confusing? Hurtful? Do you feel shame? Embarrassment? Anger? Sadness? Our attention to our hearts and guts are good barometers for our own being, and we should all be taking a bit of time to reflect on our own emotions. Naming them can be an insightful practice. Empathy can be a heavy weight to carry, but can also help uncover what really matters.
I will hope. Perhaps of all of these contractual agreements, this one is the hardest. I have often described myself as an eternal optimist, as far too often I find the silver linings in difficult moments - even if it's a stretch. But this seems really hard right now. I worry for those protesting in the streets each day and night, many of them putting their health on the line as they fight for what's important. There are tangled systems standing in the way of progress toward equality. And sadly, there are powerful people and structures working against any progress in fear for what may come crumbling down. I often tell my students that when life gets really big, make your first step small. Start with yourself. Start with the circles around you. Start in your community, church, organization, city. Those small impacts create momentum, and the ripple effect of positive energy, of learning, and most importantly of love, has to mean something. It also has to produce something real and true. For that, I will have hope.
So as I've reached the end of this written agreement today, I challenge you to think through the key promises you're making at this time. Goals don't have to be enormous to be important. But a completed goal demonstrates an ability to grow and learn.
During the last several weeks, I've been using Headspace, a popular meditation app. It's helped me quiet my mind and find some healthy ways to cope in this very loud world. The guide often prompts before beginning sessions saying, "Take some time to think about who in your life can benefit from your meditation." While curious at first (wasn't I just doing this for me?), it's been an important reminder of the need to remove my ego from the moment, and focus instead on the benefit that my own work can bring to others.
So take these promises as my new meditation, and the goals I intend to keep. And while I own the promises I keep, I employ them for the benefit of the world around me, believing in that hard-to-find hope: that we will wash our hands of this disease, and one day very soon, hold one another close.
