Thinking out Loud

The night of the George Zimmerman verdict, I was on Twitter--reading and tweeting and sharing a sense of anguish with many of my fellow Americans. Then I had an exchange that led to me deciding to shut my mouth for a bit (and I may have gone one tweet too far before I did it--Twitter as a medium does not promote thinking before speaking).

Since that night I have really been wondering--what is my place in this conversation? 

I came across a link to this article on Twitter and hoped it would have some answers for me. I'm not sure it does (I just can't agree with everything she says) and I'm not sure there is one. I actually found the discussion in the comments to be reassuring as it seems there is not just one school of thought (duh, right?) among people of color on how white people can best help fight racism.

I am of the opinion (and I believe that this thought itself might be deemed re-centering on whiteness), that nothing will change in this country until everyone that sees the injustices speak out against racism. While I do not and can not experience racism as a person of color would, I think I can and do practice empathy for those that are potential casualties of a racist society, I educate myself, I engage in difficult conversations about race with people from many places in my life, and I raise my voice as part of the chorus of Americans who are saying enough is enough.

Now whether or not I know I'm doing the "right" thing is small potatoes in the hierarchy of issues in this situation. I get that. In no way am I conflating this worry rolling around in my brain with the far-greater struggles faced by those that are on the front-lines and in the trenches of the fight against the systemic and institutionalized fight against racism in this country, but it is something I am pondering.

At my workplace, I was the only white person to bring up the verdict the Monday after it came down. I was certainly alone in engaging in dialogue and trading postings, videos and articles about Zimmerman and Trayvon with my black co-workers.

One woman and I spoke at length, and on several occasions, about many of these issues (including the work she is doing in her community and my one-woman crusade to get the less enlightened members of my extended family to educate themselves before forming opinions and sharing racist images on FB) and one day she was sharing with me her outrage over black hip-hop artists, their use of the n-word and their negative (her word) influence on black culture and especially on black teenage boys.

I have a very strong opinion about rap music and misogynistic lyrics, but I did say to her, "I think that's one issue I, as a white person, don't get to have an opinion on. You take that one up with your people and I'll keep working on Paula Deen with my people."

Sometimes all you can do is the best you can do; I think I'll have to keep doing that.

P.S. Go see Frutivale Station--you probably already know the story of Oscar Grant, but this movie will help you FEEL the injustice and horror of what happened--and what continues to happen.

 

 

 

Comments

[ms_teacher]

Yeah, I pretty much decided to keep my mouth shut very quickly on Twitter. I think of the Civil Rights movement in the 60's in which a lot of white people were involved and in which a few lost their lives. I don't think the Civil Rights movement would have gotten very far were it not for those who look like us had not been involved.

While I will never understand the struggle for a POC, the Trayvon Martin & Oscar Grant cases spoke to me on the level of being a mom.

[Green Girl in Wisconsin]

It can be SO uncomfortable to speak up--because you get caught up in the hostility on both sides, making it tough to be an ally. But I love your Paula Deen response. That's the truth--you can only influence so far and sometimes the sphere is beyond you, so you just cannot go there.

[lanes]

It's such a tough situation.

I can't imagine the pain of a mother whose child could have been killed by George Zimmerman. As in, I literally cannot fathom what kind of pain that person would be in, because I'm another white feminist and I don't have kids. But you are a mom, and can probably better imagine how devastating it would be to lose a child in that way.

Over the last decade, I've become involved with helping a number of teenagers, some of whom have died. One was murdered partially because of how looked like (I apologize for that vague description, but you know how I feel about work details on the internet.) Does that mean that I have a credible perspective for grief? Is there such a thing? If so, does that mean that some people aren't part of this grief?

I don't think we need to be in the same situations as others to empathize with them, but I do understand that sometimes people want others to listen more, especially at first. As I get older, I am trying to do that.

[suburbancorrespondent]

I think @rosaclemente was out of line. If her question to white women was merely rhetorical, then she should have hashtagged it as such. But to ask for your support and then to make fun of it when you offer it? Not cool. Not cool at all. I don't think she even deserves all the thought you gave to the situation and to her in this blog post.

[Busy Bee Suz]

Me? I have big thoughts, but am always unsure about speaking them properly. I applaud you for this....you are a much more eloquent speaker/writer than I am. (chatty? I like chatty!)
BTW: I agree with Suburban Correspondent 100%.

[gary rith]

It seems like we are living in redneck bizarro world sometimes. Guns are so utterly wrong, and the outrage over Trayvon and Newtown and Aurora etcetcetc... where is it? Why does it get buried in the next media cycle? You would think Americans are more excited about the royal baby....

[Minnesota Matron]

I need to return and read the entire piece by Metz - must run off to a meeting now and want to do this justice. But I wonder what options white people have other than seeing Black pain? She critiques Peggy MacIntosh for taking all that Black suffering and rolling it out for the world to see -- not MacIntosh's pain to take, but wounds that belong to people who are not white. It seems to me that a bridge between self and other (of all differences) is first 'recognition' of the other, and when it comes to the Black experience in America, there is pain and suffering. Recognizing this doesn't seem like a disservice but a start that so many white people refuse to make. Metz is actually critiquing white privilege herself in this piece -- noting what we're blind to and how good intentions are actually, not so good after all. Finally, if MacIntosh's exploitation of black suffering is problematic what do we make of the exploitation or 'use of' (I'm using the word 'exploit' to mean 'make productive use of' as the word is defined) Trayvon Martin's death?