I am typically the person that resists spouting strong opinions. I keep away from Twitter for that reason, because I am conflict-averse. Worse, it all just gives me unnecessary anxiety, whether I am in the fight or not.
I might look at George Floyd and then at the color of my skin and say, “This is not my fight.” And I would be wrong.
Over the past couple of days, I have tried to measure my response by looking to those voices on social media that I respect, even though I could feel it in my bones that, “This should not be happening.” It is so easy for a person who has never been disadvantaged by race to open their mouth and let Stupid fall out so I tend to be cautious. But as Joanna Wilcox @ketoincanada said on her Instagram story this week, “I can’t be afraid to mess this up when my intentions are good.”
A few years ago, Rick and I had the privilege to visit The King Center in Atlanta and then last year, the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis. Both places had interactive displays where you could “walk” with those who protested or “sit” with those who refused to give up their seat on buses or in restaurants. We didn’t have to imagine what it felt like, we just felt it. It was a powerful experience and speaking for both of us, we felt a dawning realization for the scope of what really went down. It’s easy not to think about it unless you allow yourself to be confronted.
We must allow ourselves to be confronted with the deaths of George Floyd and Brionna Taylor, with the outpouring of rage, the acts of trauma, and the peaceful protests gone bad. We must test ourselves for those voices inside that ask:
“But what if he was breaking the law?”
“Riots and destruction of property are not the right response.”
“That police officer was just doing his job.”
While this might appear to be sound and reasonable thinking, in light of repeated and continual offense to the black and brown community, they become words of excuse that deny culpability.
It can sound an awful lot like: She had it coming dressed like that.
Or: That autistic kid looks creepy. He probably did it.
Or: She’s old. She doesn’t need her house/money/visitors/love/respect anymore.
We cannot be distracted from the real issue: Such a blatant offense to a human being is wrong. Murder that hints, or screams racism, is wrong. It’s a crime, even if it was committed by a police officer, and it’s just wrong.
I can be guilty of thinking: I’m in Canada, it doesn’t apply to me. It’s too far away. It’s not my problem.
Or even: I’m not racist. I didn’t do anything. I have no responsibility here.
But as I’m learning from those voices I’m following, it’s not enough anymore to be non-racist. I need to be anti-racist. It starts with examining my own unspoken thoughts and feeling. Honestly. Because, there, but for the grace of God, go I.
It continues with listening – through podcasts, books and social media and learning from those who are making this their life’s work. Because if your bookshelves and your playlists are overwhelming white, you’re not seeing (and hearing) the full spectrum.
Here are some recommendations from Canadian Sarah Bessey:
And then there’s this:
Because saying “It’s not my problem” is not enough anymore.