Spent a good chunk of my morning scrolling through Instagram feeds, seeing tons of intelligent, beautiful, strange and weird artists that I love and follow, and my friends, posting about the current 2020 BlackLivesMatter movement.
Downtown Portland Memorial at the Mac Store.
I am so incredibly proud of all of them. I see them showing up OUTSIDE of Instagram (and all other forms of social media), doing the work, caring about doing the anti-racist work, and holding themselves and people they love, accountable to change. How fucking cool is that?
As a white, queer, cis-woman, who has been a full time artist for years, I live in a strange class location of privileged and less privileged. (I highly recommend Where We Stand, Class Matters, by bell hooks, for a solid and relevant discussion of class intersectionality.)
1. I am very, very, very poor. I am very good at managing my money, because Nora Lee, my best friend, gave me a set of incredible budgeting lessons about ten years ago. I even HAVE money, because people look at how I look, and trust me. That- is a privilege.
2. I have a supportive family. I have two younger adult siblings, who have both given me emotional, mental, physical and financial support. My mother, pre-retirement, was a Social Worker for about 35 years. She, as a single mom, worked super hard, and took care of both her kids, as well as she knew how to. My parenting model was strong, work-focused, determined and playful. I had a parenting model, who made sure my basic needs were met. Ultimately, I have a family that allows me to take risks, and who also holds me in case I fall.
3. I am very white, very personable, and I have a Social Science degree from Washington State University, which all intersect together to form a personality that is willing to engage in difficult conversations, to ask questions of people I love, and of people I am talking to, and to do research and read about things I am unfamiliar with. To me, this means, I have a responsibility to have difficult conversations with my white friends, and to listen deeply to my BIPOC friends and connections.
4. I have close friendships with some BIPOC humans, and I have for years and years. (A friend, means someone who has a key to my house, and who I trust with my dogs.) What this means for me, is that I have been blessed with people who have loved me enough to do emotional labor with me, and who have held me accountable in numerous situations where I did not check my white privilege, or my cis-privilege. That has given me a different perspective on life.
5. However, most of my relationships are still with other white people, or white-passing people. To me, this means, I need to listen deeply to what leaders within the BIPOC community have to say. I need to quiet down and pay attention, research things I don’t understand, and share my new knowledge with other people I care about- preferably in person. I believe that one on one conversations between people are an incredible way to develop compassionate, realistic and inventive solutions to shitty systemic oppression.
6. I need to find a way to amplify BIPOC voices, the same way I have been able to do with other queer voices, other artist voices. People dying because of their skin color, because of other people’s opinion, because of race stereotypes related to an entire population, isn’t ok. It’s old news, and it’s new news, and it’s really untenable. I am so incredibly grateful for social media, for showing people that other people have pain, and allowing a global community to form around the current #Blacklivesmatter movement.
7. I don’t have the answers, and I know I really care about people as a whole, and I really care about social injustice and inequality. I am willing to give up my over-privileged aspects, in order that others could live a more equal and a more vibrant life. Racism hurts everyone. It hurts white people too. Oppression hurts everybody, even the over privileged oppressor.
Please lay down that ax of self-defense and reach out and put your hand on your own heart, and on the hearts of the people you love. Feel that God-Spark that we share as humans alive in this world. Look around you, at people you don’t know, who are different from you. They have that same God-Spark. They are worthwhile, valuable, and loved.
Now go ahead, pick up that ax again, and use it to get to work dismantling whatever needs dismantling in your life. You can do this. We can do this. We can survive discomfort, and pain, and frustration and really hard conversations. I’ll light a candle for you.
Go ahead and light one for me, because this is a revolution that is finally making a difference, and every single person is needed, to show up how they can, and to inform themselves, and to care about the lives of people who look different from themselves.