*Note: This was originally published in June 2020.
I just listened to this morning's Up First bonus podcast, "Why Now, White People?"I missed Gene Demby's call for answers to this question, but found the responses very compelling. They ranged to include a mass reaction to Trump's racist rhetoric, prevalence of footage of the murders of African American people, stay-at-home orders affording people more time to pay attention and protest, peer pressure and permission, and rising tensions caused by the pandemic that generally results in acting-out behavior. Apparently, quarantines often coincide with riots.
My own experience has some additional factors, and I don't know how common it is. For background, I am of Scandinavian and Baltic descent with other white European ancestry mixed in. I came out pale, blonde, blue-eyed and predominately heterosexual. I grew up in a very white, rural area of Michigan, but frequently visited my grandparents in Saginaw, which was much more diverse. I preferred the diversity. From an early age, I felt drawn to people from different ethnic backgrounds, and I disliked the small-minded community where I went to school up north. As soon as I graduated high school, I moved to Washington State. Yes, the Pacific NW is far less diverse than many other areas of the U.S. but the liberal attitudes appealed to me, and most of all, I gravitated to the mountains, ocean and mild weather.
The Evergreen State College, my alma mater in Olympia, is an unconventional liberal arts school where, in 1989, I enrolled and was intensely challenged to examine my personal biases and to question everything I had ever learned. Coming from a small-town education where my high school history teacher showed us Westerns and took us to a civil war reenactment to teach us history, I scrambled to catch up with my fellow students. I learned that there were entire bodies of creative work by non-white people that I had not been introduced to. I took classes in cultural anthropology, feminist film theory, and political science. I read the Quran, Mahabharata, and spent a year on Native American studies. I went through a lot of difficult self-examination and absorbed feedback from fellow students who said I was too interested in other cultures, and should focus on my own culture, which is something I continue to explore.
For 20 years, I have been a working artist, often facilitating public art projects that engage disenfranchised communities. While feedback from participants is always extremely positive, I've received comments suggesting that it is not my place; that I might be acting out of self-interest, exploiting underprivileged people to feel good about myself. Many of my artworks are of people. I have gotten some critical feedback for representing people with non-white features, implying that, again, it is a kind of exploitation. If I make work that celebrates people of color, some see it as appropriation. I am not interested in making all of my work about white women. That story has been told. I am very interested in telling untold stories, as with a mosaic I made of Edmonia Lewis.
As years passed, I continued to read books by non-white authors, follow non-white artists, watch t.v. and movies by and about people of color, to listen to non-white podcasters, and generally to keep trying to be aware. But, I still live in Washington, in a very rural area. I have Mexican friends and Native friends. A very large portion of my friends are LGBTQIA. I have six white friends with black children, but only a few, far-flung African American acquaintances. It is impossible for me to have meaningful conversations about race with people of color without accosting someone I don't know in an entirely inappropriate manner. I do have great conversations with other friends who are also working on these things, but it's a limited perspective.
In the past, I've occasionally posted resources, sticking to: "I listened to this Code Switch episode and it was really good. Follow the link." Or, "Have any of you been watching 'Dear White People'? I recommend it!" Speaking up about race in social media feels very tricky as a white person. I feel like I'm saying, "Look at me! I'm so woke!" It feels self-congratulatory. It has always been hard for me to figure out how to have these conversations.
In mid-May, I listened to the audio book by Ijeoma Oluo, "So You Want to Talk about Race." I humbly posted a recommendation on my facebook page, as usual. In fact, Ijeoma gave me a lot to think about. The most important lesson for me was that conversations about race can be awkward, we will make mistakes, sometimes it will go very badly - but we have to keep trying. White people have to be willing to take negative feedback, listen, reflect, then do it again. Too many of us retreat in shame or defensiveness. Her words were fresh in my mind at the end of May.
And then Ahmaud Arbery was brutally killed by white vigilantes, then the news of Breonna Taylor's murder was released, and then George Floyd's killing took place, all within a short time. And everyone with a conscience was shaken by it. People were talking about it and posting about it online. Knowing I had black friends, however distant, and friends with black children, I had to post something. I needed them to know I was enraged and grief stricken and that there are white people who are on their side. I saw videos of white women doing and saying such embarrassingly racist things, I felt the need to disassociate myself with that kind of person. I spoke out more. As more and more people I know have been taking a stand, I feel less like one white person trying to prove how enlightened she is, and more like part of a collective voice saying "We stand with Black Lives Matter." Before, speaking up as a white person felt like I was making it about me. Now it feels like it's about Us, and it's a big Us, and it's a relief to know how many (nearly all) of my friends support this movement.
The hosts of the show sound, understandably, skeptical. Suddenly, all these white people are speaking out who were not before. And it's true; I have friends who argued with me on the topic less than a year ago who are fully engaged now. But I do think it's genuine. I think we are going to keep making mistakes and getting it wrong and, collectively, white people still have a long way to go, but there is a sea change taking place. Many who felt shy about speaking up before are emboldened. We are listening and working hard to learn.
The devastating aspect of all of this is the increase in violence against people of color right now. I feel certain that the entitled white people who are committed to racism and terrified of change are in the minority, but they are freaked out and filled with hate-fueled anger. And they have guns. But they are a dwindling sector of society and I truly hope they will soon be shamed into hiding and that future generations will be free from that kind of prejudice. I have to believe this.
