No More Silence
Photo: Mos Def—Black on Both Sides
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As the ground of our country shakes and seems to break open, I am called to pause and listen. Deeply listen. To acknowledge and try to truly hear the voices and the painful reality that my Black brothers and sisters have experienced and are continuing to experience in my community and around the country.
I am heartbroken, deeply troubled and outraged by the continued injustices and racial inequalities the Black people of our country continue to face. I stand against police brutality, racism, and the systems of oppression that I’m learning are far deeper and wider than I had previously realized, which I acknowledge is a privilege I have had.
I am called to truly take a deep look at myself. To really get honest about ways I am living and benefitting from the privileges I was born into, coming into this life in this country in this pale skin. And to look inward to seek out the ways in which my ignorance and my lack of pro-activism has been a silent part of the perpetuation of the problem.
I am writing this, not to berate myself in shame and guilt (though I have been feeling those things and believe it’s important for us to feel all of it right now), but because I KNOW I am not alone. I know that my audience at this point is mostly White or non-Black. I know many of us have enough privilege in our lives that we can work towards our dreams and goals, and not have to worry about our safety or put our energy into simply trying to stay alive due to the color of our skin.
And I know that I cannot stay silent any longer.
My feelings of love and deep appreciation for the contributions of the Black community to art, music, writing, leadership, and to the beautiful diversity of this country is not enough. I have to speak and act and feel and learn.
I have to listen more deeply.
Here’s an example. One of my favorite Mos Def songs “UMI Says” I’ve listened to and loved for years. When I’m down, it lifts me up. The beat, the melody, his voice… I have even found felt some sort of connection through his art as though I could relate because of the ways I feel life has been hard too, and the ways life feels unpredictable.
But as I begin to listen more deeply, as the Black community demands justice—real fucking justice—I am looking at myself. I am recognizing how a Black person’s life is hard in ways I could never fully understand—though I will try. I am recognizing that my life has never been in jeopardy because of the color of my skin, in fact I’ve had many unseen advantages due to the color of my skin. I am recognizing that I have inadvertently benefitted from this and so many other amazing Black artists without truly hearing, without truly acknowledging that this is their/your reality. That the words “For you or me, life is not promised” is not existential poetry. This is a daily reality. Now. Still.
“Tomorrow may never come. For you or me, life is not promised. I ain’t no perfect man, I’m trying to do the best that I can with what it is I have….Sometimes I get discouraged. I look around and things are so weak. People are so weak. Sometimes, sometimes I feel like crying. Sometimes my heart gets heavy. Sometimes I just want to leave and fly away. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with myself…. Sometimes I don’t want to get into no war. Sometimes I don’t wanna be a soldier. Sometimes I just wanna be a man, but…I want black people to be free, to be free, to be free. All my people to be free, to be free, to be free.”
I have believed all along that I was not racist, that I was open and accepting of all people no matter what color skin they had, that I was non-judgmental and treated all humans as humans deserving of respect and dignity. I think this is true about me. However, I am grateful to the Black community standing up and to this moment in our history that is helping me to see that this is not enough—that I have more work to do.
I have listened and loved this song without letting myself really hear and imagine the deep truth of the reality Yasiin Bey is living every day in this country. I have listened and loved connecting with this—and I've been privileged enough to be able to turn it off too. Black people can not turn it off. This is the reality they/you live with every single day. And I am seeing ways I have taken, ways I’ve been complicit in my silence and avoidance, and ways I’ve simply looked away and not taken action. When I acknowledge the truth of this, holy shit I start feeling.
This is not a confession. This is me getting real with myself and starting to recognize ways I can and must improve. And when I touch into those feelings and be with even a fraction of the discomfort of this truth, my soul wakes up and will not allow anything other than self change and action.
I will no longer look away.
I will listen and continue to listen.
I will do my internal work, ALL of my internal work.
I will pro-actively educate myself.
I will seek out Black authors and learn about Black history.
I will advocate for Black rights and Indigenous rights and rights of all people of color.
I will take action.
I will make mistakes and I will not stay silent for fear of making mistakes.
“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter... The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people but the silence over that by the good people.”
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There is no nature-connection, no real soul work, without doing this work.
I’ve learned over time that my leadership is one of leading by example. Though I write this post sharing with you my thoughts and my personal process, my deep hope is that this stirs something in you and that you join me in doing the work to listen and to educate ourselves, to look within and be in our discomfort, to take action and stand for what it is you truly believe in.
The chorus of the song says “My Umi said shine your light on the world. Shine your light for the world to see.”
I know my light must shine more brightly. There is no other option at this point but to let it scream out.
Below are some resources to further educate and take action. And please know I am willing to engage in conversation around any of this.
I am here and I am listening.
The soul of our country is crying out for us to do the work of looking at who we are and where we’ve come from, to see our blindspots and to confront our shadows. Let’s show up to that.
RESOURCES
Books:
Some of these books I have read, but most I am either currently working through or are next on my list to read.
The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabele Wilkerson
Stamped from the Beginning by Ibram X. Kendi
How To Be An Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi
White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
The New Jim Crow; Mass Incarceration in The Age Of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander
Articles:
America’s Racial Contract is Killing Us by Adam Serwer
Why Every Environmentalist Should Be Anti-Racist by Leah Thomas
Podcasts:
1619
Pod Save The People
Other Resources:
Check out this compilation of all sorts of resources made by Sarah Sophie Flicker and Alyssa Klein to find more books, articles, movies, podcasts, orgs to follow, etc.
Black Voices
These are just a few voices that have been impactful for me most recently (plus an old favorite).
Royalty (Ronald Vinson) speaks his poem “Letter To Your Flag” depicting what it’s really like to live as a black youth in modern-day America during the Youth Speaks Teen Poetry Slam in 2018.
Kyla Jenée Lacey's poem “White Privilege”
Trevor Noah on the dominos of racial injustice and police brutality.
Mos Def “Umi Says"