- We as white people can stop asking people of color to tell us what we can do to help. I saw a well-meaning tweet from a former classmate of mine that went something like this: "Black people, please help me understand how I can engage in this movement." I totally understand where this was coming from, and I support fully the motivation behind it, but it puts an unfair responsibility on our friends of color to help white people find their role in the madness. If we rely on minority groups to help explain to us where we should be plugging ourselves in, that means that those folks have to explain this hundreds of times over. That's not their job to figure out for us. Being an ally means figuring it out. If you're curious (and I certainly was), you can check out Upworthy's most recent post or the Southern Poverty Law Center's article. Both are great and offer helpful, tangible ways to plug in.
- Denouncing white nationalism the KKK is really easy. Speaking out against it, even in places that don't seem to matter (like on Facebook, where many of you will have found this very post), MATTERS. Putting that into the world MATTERS. Keep doing it.
- We can "get to it" more quickly. We as white people can stop sidelining ourselves with emotion and move to action more quickly. Assume that we don't have that luxury. This IS the way it is. But this is not the way it should be.
(Oh, here comes the part that I don't want to talk about.)
The really hard part, the part I would like to leave out because it involves me doing some work on myself that I don't want to do, is finding a way to engage not only against the nationalistic behavior we've seen, but with it. No, I don't mean in favor of it.
I mean that calling these people and this behavior racist and anti-American is exactly the right move. But then what? Do we all just go to our corners and decide we aren't going to speak to each other again? What happens then? What kind of progress are we making? That kind of stalemate means prolonging the agony, the injustice, and the kinds of misunderstandings that lead to violence, bigotry, and generations of racism.
WHITE PEOPLE: This is our job. It is our job to go on Twitter and say this is wrong, but it is also our job to turn back into our homes and examine the racist structures within which we operate. It's our job to write something eloquent on Facebook, but it's also our job to respectfully pull our relatives aside at family gatherings after they've said something racially insensitive and have a conversation with them about it. We have to be policing ourselves, we have to be policing each other.
And in case there's a chance I'm misunderstood - I don't mean doing this with hate, with condescension, or with impatience. Every time I write a piece about race, I include the fact that the only reason I have gotten to this point in my own evolution of thinking is because many people along the way were patient with and gracious toward me. We HAVE to be gracious with others.
We will not change a damn thing if the way we go about speaking to each other leaves one person in the conversation feeling talked down to, stupid, disrespected, or less than. Pride is a touchy animal and we are all guilty of letting it eat us alive.
We can't expect our brothers and sisters of color to shoulder the burden of confronting racist, aggressive white people about their racist, aggressive beliefs (even though, to our shame, those brothers and sisters often do whether they want to or not). The reporter in that Vice.com video linked above is white, and that's not an accident. Do you think this group would've ever opened up to a non-white person? This is our mantle. This is our job. We have an "in" and we must use it.
If you are a person who's decided to shut down toward the bigots of the world and are using that as a form of protest, I beg you to reconsider. People, even people whose ideologies are terrifying and dark and the represent the worst in humanity, have been made into whatever it is that they are. What is done can be undone. Hate is taught, as Nelson Mandela reminds us - no one is born hating. If you are refusing to engage, but including phrases like "Love wins" in your Twitter bio, you (forgive me for saying so) are missing the point.
Who do you think are love's instruments? Other people?
No. It's US. It's EVERYONE. Opting out is not a form of resistance. It is a form of privilege at work.
Radical love means that you must stay engaged - it means that we must reach across a line that disgusts us and learn how to understand and reconfigure an American Nazi.
(That is a sentence I never ever ever ever thought I would type, ever.)
Here is a fascinating article from Vox.com that will help with that.
- Lastly, I humbly submit, though I know people will push back against this, that we have to stop wasting energy being outraged that the President isn't doing much in the way of working these issues out. My dad always says - "You can be upset by someone's behavior, you can be disappointed in someone's behavior, but after enough of a pattern has formed, you have to stop being surprised by it." This has nothing to do with politics or which way I happen to lean, and everything to do with paying attention to the behavior we've gotten from our President to this point: Stop being shocked. Stop expecting better. We aren't going to get it. I don't mean it isn't despicable for him to condemn violence on "all sides" - it is. But your lack of tweet about him, specifically, will not be missed. We are the solution. He clearly isn't going to help, so we must double down ourselves.
--
In the two hours I've been up here, the fog burned away. The sky is a bright, nearly cloudless blue. I knew this would happen.
Tears are brimming in my eyes finishing this post; not because I think it's important for anyone else to read, but because typing it out has arrested me in a new way, as a person of faith and an American citizen. I'm newly committed to keeping my arms open; to resisting the urge to close down and bow out.
We have to keep working against and alongside and within each other as we are called to each of these tasks. This is a complicated mess we've made. It's easier to break things than it is to repair them. Where there's a lot to lose, there's a lot to protect. There's a lot of work that must be done in order to shield this fragile thing called justice for all. It's going to take all of us.
But isn't that the point?
God, I hope so.