For people who menstruate

I had my first period while I was home alone, sick with walking pneumonia during winter break of 8th grade. I knew what periods were. My mom, a nurse, had explained when I was very young in anatomical detail about the entire process. And yet this theoretical knowledge failed to equip me adequately for the reality of my lived experience. In the moment, I was certain I was dying. When I was able to process that it was my menses, I remained unconvinced I wasn’t still dying. It was excruciating. For years afterwards my periods continued to be debilitatingly painful, heavy, long and wildly irregular. Birth control, the only remedy offered, was out of the question because I had a history of migraines and that is apparently not a good combo. I did try it for a while anyway. The side effects were severe and while it did make my period more regular, it did nothing to alleviate the other symptoms, so I stopped. Both the general practice doctor and the OBGYN believed that I was young and it would simply sort itself out. People also said things like it was “preparing me for childbirth” and told me that it would get better after having a child. None of these things turned out to be true.

What continues to be true is that the pain and complications people who menstruate experience are largely ignored.

Through twenty years of menstruation, I have learned a few remedies that have made a huge difference for me, and I hope will save other people some suffering.

To support regulation (frequency and length) of menses

• Vitex/chaste berry
• Evening Primrose oil
• Acupuncture

When I take vitex/chaste berry and evening primrose oil daily, my cycle is more regular and the number of days I bleed are fewer. Usually what happens is I have a terrible period, commit to taking the supplements every day, and my next period is way better. Then I get lazy about taking them every day but still take them sometimes, and my next period is still pretty manageable. So then I forget about taking them altogether and the next cycle is like 54 days long and I hate everything. Moral of the story: It works best if you take them everyday but will still help if you take them inconsistently. 

Acupuncture has been effective in regulating menstruation as well. It’s important that you talk to your acupuncturist about your goals, so they can target the appropriate symptoms and imbalances. This is also something that needs to be fairly regular to provide benefits. Our bodily systems seek to be in balance, but a lot of environmental factors can throw us off. Getting a regular acupuncture “tune up” helps keep us on track. Also if you have health insurance, there is a good chance acupuncture is covered.

To lessen pain

• Turmeric
• CBD
• Hot water bottle
• Hip opening stretches

Once your menstruation cycle is regular, it becomes a lot easier to manage the pain. A week before you will start bleeding, start taking turmeric once daily. I usually stop once the bleeding begins because otherwise it will make me dizzy. Turmericincreases circulation and reduces inflammation both very helpful in proactively alleviating the pain of menstruation.

During menstruation I take high concentrations of pure CBD as capsule, tincture or topical oil. The quality of the CBD oil is important and depending on where you live harder or easier to acquire. For those unfamiliar with CBD it does not get you high, though some people experience such a deep relaxation the first time they take it that they just pass the fuck out. Also CBD is great for managing anxiety.

You probably won’t feel like doing much, and I encourage you to rest as much as possible during the first days of your period. I live with a hot water bottle across my lower abdomen and find that hip opening stretches can be soothing especially if you are having those weird lower back cramps. I like to do the stretches in a way that is as restorative as possible (i.e. grab all the pillows and blankets).

Other things to consider

• Caffeine
• Refined sugar
• Meat
• Alcohol
• Exercise
• Hydration
• Rest

I am weary of recommending any dietary shifts as blanket recommendations, so what I will offer instead is an invitation to explore how the foods you are consuming (or not) are impacting your menstruation experience. It’s all about balance, and balance doesn’t look the same for everyone. 
If you regularly consume caffeine, refined sugar and/or alcohol, consider reducing the amount you consume in the week before and during your period and see how that affects your pain levels. If you don’t normally eat much red meat, consider intentionally increasing your intake during and the week after your period. In regards to exercise, you might be doing too much for your body and need to rest more or you might not be doing too little and need to get your body moving. Both over and under exerting tends to have a big impact on menstrual (dis)comfort. Listen to your body and let it lead the way. Lastly, hydration and rest are SUPER important always but especially during your period. If you are usually forgetful about drinking water, think about ways you can remedy that if only during the bleeding part of your cycle. And embrace the naps. Sleep is healing and you deserve to rest.

Let me know how it goes!

It’s not enough. Do it anyway.

I am angry and heart broken because another innocent Black person was murdered. I am disgusted by people who look like me. I am also acutely aware that my feelings don’t mean shit right now. And I would be wise to save my white tears and take action.

Is writing a blog taking action? No, not so much.

And yet…

I strive to be actively anti-racist in my daily life. As an educator, I get a lot of praise and a lot of pushback for the work I do to that end with my students. I am also raising my white son who spends half his time at his dad’s where racism (if it is discussed at all) is acknowledged as a thing “bad” white people do, not as systemic, institutional and pervasive and certainly not as something that we as white folx directly benefit from on a daily basis. Between school and shared custody, there’s not that much contact time, but I have been determined to make the most of it, to help my son develop a critical lens, to see and disrupt injustice and to recognize in himself the ways in which white supremacy shows up and then work to dismantle it. 

This is why I was so horrified when a few months ago while we were cooking dinner and chatting about our day, my son stutter stepped on the word Black as he described his friend. I can’t remember the context of our conversation, only that it was relevant that Blackness was stated and when my son said it like he was whispering a bad word, the world momentarily stopped before I stammered out “Why did you say Black like that?!”

I was distraught. Clearly I had failed. Clearly I was not an anti-racist white person. I was a fraud and I had no business educating other people’s children. In fact I should not be allowed to parent my own. As I continued to spiral, I remembered that this work is messy, so I took a deep breath, stopped cooking and sat down with my son for a long conversation.

This moment still haunts me. I still worry I am not doing enough. Based on the state of things, I think that concern is well founded. Because the answer is: I’m not. As long as there is racism, as long as Black people are still being murdered for existing, as long as we continue to live in a carceral state, no white person is doing enough.

Aja Taylor’s tweet resurfaced this memory for me:

And so I decided to return to this blog, not because I think blogging will end racism (but wouldn’t that be lovely) and not because I think I am an expert (clearly I have lots of room to grow) but because I am willing to engage in the messiness of getting it wrong, of continuing to work at doing better, of understanding that this is MY work, that Black people don’t owe us shit and because despite everything I still hold hope that my humble contributions can make the world a little less terrible and move us all a tiny bit closer to collective liberation*.

Here are some tips for white folx looking to engage their children in conversations about white supremacy and anti-Blackness:

• Be honest
  • Is there a lot you don’t know? Say that. Also make a plan for how you are going to learn more. Are there ways your thinking and understanding around racism has changed as you’ve grown? Share that.
• Do not only talk about death
  • Yes, y(our) children need to know about police brutality and the murder of innocent Black folx. You need to make sure Black humanity and dignity is at the center of these discussions. And if you only talk about Black folx when someone is murdered, you are missing the mark.
• Talk about Black brilliance, resistance and joy
  • There are so many phenomenal Black authors, scholars, artists, doctors, musicians, scientists, small business owners, etc. Share their stories, support their work. Google is your friend. Also see previous posts for some recommendations.
• Center whiteness -No, not like that- 
  • Do not only talk about race as a thing other people have or talk about y(our)self only in relation or opposition to folx of color. Discuss whiteness. Discuss y(our) whiteness. Share the ways in which you are working to continually educate yourself and unlearn whiteness. Talk about the everyday power dynamics you are beginning to recognize and how you are attempting to leverage your whiteness in the service of BIPOC** and collective liberation (see also passing the mic, etc).
• Own your mistakes
  • You are going to get it wrong. A lot. Be super fucking grateful to any Black person who chooses to believe in you enough to let you know how your words or actions have hurt them. This is not a small thing. Practice and role model for your child what it means to apologize and attempt to repair harm you have caused.
• Don’t wait for the “right” time. Start today
  • Seriously after you finish reading this, go find your kid and just start. Start in the middle, start at the beginning, start at the end. I don’t care. Just start talking. And if you suck at it and your armpits are all sweaty and you feel super awkward and your kid looks at you funny: Congratulations! You are growing! I am proud of you. Keep going!

Is it enough? No, it isn’t. Do it anyway. Do not expect BIPOC to give you praise for your efforts, but do know I am here cheering you on for trying your best and rooting for us all to do better.

 

Rest in Power #AhmaudArbery and #MuhlaysiaBooker

#BlackLivesMatter #BlackTransLivesMatter #Everyday

Click here to donate funds to support Black Trans liberation

*Collective liberation: Lilla Watson said “If you have come here to help me you are wasting your time, but if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.” This is what I mean when I say collective liberation.

**BIPOC stands for Black, Indigenous, People of Color

Week Whatever: The Fatigue of Trauma

**Trigger Warning: Content discusses Sexual Assault**

I don’t know where to start. Does it make sense to start from last Tuesday with tears streaming down my cheeks, shaking uncontrollably in a bus full of children I am responsible for and to with my phone pressed against my ear and the sound of my partner’s voice telling me to breath, that I am safe now? Or does it make more sense to start with the night the man I had trusted for four years forced me onto his bed and tore off my pants? Or should I start instead with young adulthood and the endless number of cat calls, unwanted attention, the hey baby’s that quickly turned into you bitch, the strangers’ hand on the exposed skin of my thigh, the small of my back, the hands “accidentally” grazing my breasts? Or friends’ fathers commenting on my body? Or that time in high school being forced against the cold metal of the car door I so desperately wanted to escape into? Or farther still to when I was 3yrs old and the man was old enough to be my father?

I have searched for where to begin for so long. Where is the moment when I become unwhole, unclean, unworthy of respect? When did I learn to divorce myself from my body? When did I learn to expect the unwanted advances of men as part of the cost of living in this world as female bodied?

When #metoo began to explode on the internet I found it increasingly difficult to get up in the morning. Existing began to feel extra painful. I stopped looking at Twitter as part of my morning routine because it was a constant reminder of things I have worked hard to not constantly be reminded of. I purposely avoided engaging, so that I could make it through the day. I quickly found though that I could not escape; everyone was talking about it. And in the talking about it, I started to notice that white women were getting more air time and their stories were being taken more seriously. This made me nauseous and angry. Why is it that my whiteness somehow gives more claim to my complaints? Answer: Racism. And all I could think was Damn! We, white women, just ruin everything, don’t we?

Because in that thirty seconds after #metoo started trending and before white women elbowed their way to the front of the line, there was hope; a possibility for a consciousness shift, a chance for white people to glimpse at more deeply understanding the physical, emotional and mental tax of existing in our white supremacist society for folks of color.

It’s not a far stretch for me to apply my PTSD-like response to the onslaught of sexual assault testimonies to how it might feel for folks of color when situations like Charlottesville happen. These are not the same sorts of trauma nor can I pretend to know how it feels to experience something for a collective group of people whose identity I do not share. However, my own trauma deepens my capacity for empathy, and there are some important parallels and intersections that are worth calling out: namely that racism and sexual assault are constants in our society and folks of color, women, trans and non-binary folks are acutely aware of how this impacts their survival on a daily basis. When there is an incident that becomes widely publicized, that known and ordinary reality becomes magnified and the routines of daily living become strained. I had hoped then that this latest outpouring of trauma would be an opportunity for more white folks to shift their automated responses i.e. to do better. And even though we still didn’t get it right (see the number of white women who voted for Roy Moore), there is always an opportunity to do it better next time.

So…

In our interactions with others, we must examine the ways in which we have power as well as the ways in which we are powerless. Keep in mind that some power is constant while other power is positional. If we are not aware of the power we hold, we are more likely to abuse it, so pay attention. Lastly, in thinking about the places we feel powerless we must continue to punch up at the individuals and in particular, the systems keeping us oppressed. Too often we buy into the narrative of scarcity and make choices to get our own individual needs met at the expense of those around us and especially those with less power (i.e. punching down). Do not buy into the idea that stepping on people or attempting to discredit others is the way to get ahead because like Gloria Anzaldúa wrote “without community there is no liberation.” We need each other.

until next time,

Stephanie

P.S. Recognizing the importance of citing and crediting Black women who’s work often gets ignored by the white mainstream, Tarana Burke has been doing the work of advocating and supporting women and femmes who have experienced sexual trauma for decades before #MeToo became a hashtag. Read about her here.

 

Week 5: Raising Baby Anti-Racists

I realized in order for this to be a sustainable project now that the school year has started, it will have to be bi-weekly. Having arrived to the new bi-weekly due date and therefore needing a post, I’m feeling pretty tired. I also have caught the new school year cold, so I have chills, can’t breathe out my nose and my head is throbbing. As a classroom teacher the first few weeks of school tend to take all of my everything, and for most of my teaching career I have felt that my work in the classroom was in large part my contribution to social justice and interrupting systems of inequity. I still feel that way, and yet I committed in my life outside of school to this extra effort to “do the work” and build community and encourage more active anti-racism among white adults, so here I am. This school year also feels a little different than the last five. In my new school, I find myself having conversations not exclusively with young brown and black folks who speak in detail about their own lived experiences of oppression and injustice but often with young white children who have no idea what I am talking about. It’s a different kind of challenge; one I wasn’t entirely sure I was prepared to face in my classroom, but one I spend a lot of time thinking about in my personal life. It is also one I think more white folks could use some support in addressing because if we are not actively working to raise anti-racist white folks we are inadvertently raising budding white supremacists. And nobody wants that. Well at least nobody on this page.

Where do I start?

Having conversations with white kids about racism is not really that complicated. It’s fear and discomfort that often keep us from doing so. There’s a whole lot of really great books to use to begin dialogue. Reading books about the past runs the risk of depicting racism as a solely historical issue, not as a present day one. However, it is really important that young people understand the history of events, so that they can more deeply understand the context of our current reality. Books open doors to dialogue and questions, and we as grown white folks need to be doing more to generate conversations about race with little white folks in order to first acknowledge and then work to undo systems that disproportionately advantage us with unearned privilege and discriminate against folks of color in profound and measurable ways.

What’s the next step?

This is where things can feel more vague. Usually there are some articles that come out when catastrophe strikes about how to discuss it with your kids. These are great guidelines for difficult topics. Overwhelmingly the point is: DO talk to the young people in your life about specific highly publicized events of racism and injustice when they happen. As white people we sometimes wish to hide behind the excuse of protecting young people from the harsh realities of life but this is not a luxury we can afford to indulge in collectively if we want our children to grow up into a more just and equitable world. We must speak to them about the world we live in order to prepare them for the world we want to be true.

How do I get unstuck?

The everyday actions of injustice and microaggressions are just as important to discuss with young people. We as white folks have an obligation to help our white children to understand how they benefit from a system in a way that their friends of color do not. Examples of this come up with frequency in the school setting, but it can feel challenging to point them out in a way that empowers them and doesn’t fill them with guilt. That’s where all the other pieces begin to connect. If young people understand the history of racism and oppression in the U.S, as well as the current events, then they can also begin to identify more everyday instances of injustice. Creating space for them to talk about their growing understanding will also provide them opportunities to address and interrupt the injustices they witness. And as so often the case with young people, they pay the most attention not to what we tell them to do but what they see us doing and saying to and about others. In other words, keeping working on yourself and include the young white folks in your life in your growth. Take them to meetings. Take them to a protest. Tell them why you are signing a petition or choosing not to donate to Red Cross or why you are choosing to buy goods from a store owned by POC in your community.

 

In conclusion, talk to the young white people in your life about race. Buy a book and read it together. Talk about the news. It might be awkward. But it’s definitely necessary.

 

Until next week,

Stephanie

 

Week 4: Take a listening tour

I’ve been asking people to bring me their questions as topics for posts. A friend brought me this one that I have heard echoed in different words but with the same wonderings from many white folks: How do I bridge the gap between POC saying “You can’t possibly understand how I feel…” and “You have to listen and understand how I feel…” ?!

I’ve been ruminating over this question ever since it was brought to my attention. My answer is: you don’t. Both things are true. And there is no gap.

But of course there’s more to it than that… and yet there’s not. I worry that my answer is too simplistic to be well received. It is also what feels most true to me.

Our job is to learn as much as possible about systemic racism and our role as white folks, our job is to continue to increase our capacity for empathy and our job is to sit with the discomfort that arises. Our job is also to recognize that while racism negatively impacts everyone, it is absurd to say that we as white folks could ever fully understand the lived experience of people of color in our society.

The tension this generates reminds me of a quote from Audre Lorde (1981):

“I speak out of direct and particular anger at an academic conference, and a white woman says, ‘Tell me how you feel but don’t say it too harshly or I cannot hear you.’ But is it my manner that keeps her from hearing, or the threat of a message that her life may change?”

In my experience discussing racism in multiracial spaces, white folks tend to want to censor how emotions are expressed. I believe the motivation is partly socialization and partly guilt. Guilt and shame can often be incapacitating and therefore useless emotions, but they seem to come up for us a lot, so it’s important to name them. If we can identify our feelings of guilt, then we can evaluate whether our responses are coming from a place of shame or fear. Transformation is possible only if we first become aware of what is motivating our reactions.

Later on in her presentation Audre Lorde says “yes, it is very difficult to stand still and to listen to another woman’s voice delineate an agony I do not share, or one to which I myself have contributed.” And that is the sticking point I think for us white folks. To listen to the hurt and pain and fear and rage of another person who’s experience we do not share and are at least partially responsible for cultivating is very, very hard. It is also perhaps the most important, most courageous thing we can do.

Where do I start?

The first step is to not get defensive. If you are listening to a person of color discuss their lived experience of racism, of macro or micro aggressions, defending your whiteness is unproductive, and so is trying to prove you “get it.” Bite your tongue. Just listen.

What is the next step?

Listen better. I’m serious. Keep listening. You will know your listening skills are improving when people start telling you things that are harder to hear than before. Keep listening.

How do I get unstuck?

Quit thinking you deserve a break from the harshness of the truth. Quit thinking you have arrived somewhere. Quit thinking you are the exception to all white people. It’s not about you. It never was. All of this is bigger than you. It’s bigger than all of us, and yet POC have been expected to carry the burden of the weight of all this injustice all along. And now we white folks are expecting to be included with the “in crowd” of understanding before we’ve done the actual work. If a person of color in your life: a friend, a colleague or a stranger has decided for whatever reason to unburden themselves temporarily by speaking with you about the latest racial inequity and affront to justice they have confronted, do not try to bridge the gap between the impossibility of understanding and the necessity of it. Just listen.

In my opinion, we do not get to call ourselves allies. It’s not a title we can give ourselves. We can commit to being anti-racist white people as an ongoing, ever-evolving process, and we can commit to interrupting systemic inequity. Sometimes that might look very obvious like marching in a protest or calling your representatives and demanding that they defend DACA. Yet in day to day interactions, one of the most important ways to interrupt systemic injustice is by listening deeply and without defensiveness to the people who are most adversely affected by it. Because there is no gap to bridge: We may never understand, and yet we must always seek to.

Until next week,

Stephanie
P.S. Click here to read the entirety of Audre Lorde’s 1981 Keynote “The Uses of Anger: Women Responding to Racism”

Week 3: Beyond Hashtags and Safety Pins

On Monday, I met this person who I almost immediately could not stand. As I tried to decipher what it was about him that made me so twitchy, I observed him interrupt someone else mid sentence and mansplain something it was clear he didn’t have any expertise on for the third time, and then my eyes fell upon the safety pin adorning his hoodie. And I thought of course.

If you don’t know about the safety pin movement among white folks after the election or why it’s problematic, please read, writer for The Establishment, Ijeoma Oluo’s article. The point is safety pins and -I would add- hashtags aren’t enough. Wearing a Black Lives Matter shirt or putting a BLM sign in your yard or window is infinitely more impressive than a safety pin, but if that is the summation of our activism then it becomes merely conciliatory and not even for black folks, but for us.

I thought about this man and his safety pin again on Wednesday, when the autopsy report for Charleena Lyles came out. Why is it, fellow white people, that we seem to only remember to say Black Lives Matter after a black person is killed at the hands of police? Is that actually supportive? I mean, it’s not nothing, but it’s certainly not enough. The message that Black Lives Matter is an important one that deserves to be repeated in hashtags and printed on t-shirts and posted in shop windows and yet even if we say it all the time, saying it is not enough.

If we truly believe that black lives matter, then what are we doing in our everyday to demonstrate that that is true?

How are we supporting black lives not just mourning their death?

Did you know that in most parts of the U.S. (arguably all parts) it is significantly more difficult to obtain a loan for a house or a business as a person of color than it is as a white person? This means that people of color (POC) are risking more than a white person to establish a business and often lack the financial resources to fall back on should the business struggle (as many do) in its first year. You can read more about this in the excerpt from the study Race and Entrepreneurial Success by Fairlie and Robb and by doing a google search for “redlining” “housing discrimination” etc.

If you believe that black lives matter, then supporting black owned businesses is one tangible and practical way to live out that belief. We live in a consumer driven society, so use your financial power to support what matters to you. In other words, let’s go shopping.

Where do I start?

Now before you get carried away, I am not proposing that you appropriate and consume black culture. For white people, the moral of Solange’s song F.U.B.U is that some shit is not for us -as in not for white people, so please don’t go buying the continent of Africa earrings or a Dashiki and say I told you to do it. I did not.

You can however do some internet research about your community. What are the black owned businesses where you live? Is there a black owned grocery store, coffee shop, bookstore, restaurant? Some larger, more organized cities have websites devoted to supporting black owned businesses. For example Houston. They are usually not a comprehensive list, but they can be a good place to start. Once you find a few places, begin frequenting them. Make a point of spending your money in places owned and run by folks of color in your community.

What’s the next step?

Once this becomes a regular part of your routine, start planning for your next vacation. While you are deciding on where to go and what to do, add to your search what black owned businesses there are in the places you will be visiting. We tend to be a little more luxurious on vacation, eating out and buying gifts, so make a point of seeking out businesses to support that are owned and run by people of color on your vacation as well.

How do I get unstuck?

Etsy and Instagram are great places to find out about small businesses. Make a favorites page on your Etsy account of stores and follow them on Instagram. You will quickly learn about other stores you might also enjoy through their posts. Share that information with friends, so they can support them as well. Here are some lists from Huffpost to get you started: Black Owned Etsy Stores and Latinx Owned Etsy Stores. It’s not that you need to spend more money, but if you shift the way you spend the money you do have, it can make a big difference.

Please share businesses you love run by people of color in your community in the comments below.

 

Until next week,

Stephanie

Week 2: Talk amongst yOURselves

Self growth is great, but it is sometimes hard to notice our own blind spots. This is one of the reasons it is critical to cultivate friendships with other white folks who are also doing this work. The other reason is because it is not appropriate to be always going to our friends of color to discuss our latest whiteness revelation. Some people of color (POC) are open to having these types of conversations with white friends and some are not. And just because your friend of color had the emotional capacity to hear your story about a racist incident and help you unpack it one time does not give you a free pass to tell them all the things all the time. You need consent. Always. Because trauma.

Ultimately though, I firmly believe that the work we need to do is our responsibility. We need to talk to other white people about our whiteness, about our realizations, about our uncertainties, about our fumbles. When we lean on our friends of color too much, we quickly slip into a passive position of requesting that they educate us and expect them to tell us what to do instead of cultivating our own analysis and acting on it. We also run the risk of inadvertently causing more harm by saying something ignorant or bringing up triggering topics. We definitely should talk about race across racial lines, but what I am suggesting is that we get our shit in order first. There is a high chance -pretty much a guarantee- that we will still misstep and need to apologize. However, we minimize the negative impact of these instances when we do the work first ourselves, and when we work out our wonderings on complicity and white guilt with our white friend group and then venture into discussing race in a broader multiracial context. And not just once. The self inquiry and dialogic meaning making must continue in an ongoing self-reflective loop for significant progress to occur.

Lastly, when we have new information we get excited, we want to talk about it, we want to show we “get it” and that’s very natural. But honey: They. Already. Know. People of color have been living in their bodies and their racialized identities in the systemic racism of our society this whoooooooole time. We are the ones playing catch up in terms of our growing understanding. We are the ones who need to do our work.

In a talk with young women, Michelle Obama stated that: “We should always have three friends in our lives-one who walks ahead who we look up to and follow; one who walks beside us, who is with us every step of our journey; and then, one who we reach back for and bring along after we’ve cleared the way.” As someone who doesn’t need, want or have capacity for a lot of friends, I love the simplicity of this formula. It is also great point of reference as we begin to assemble our critical white friends community.

 

Where do I start?

If you are just starting out in examining your whiteness it can feel scary and vulnerable to start talking about race with other people. This is partly because our society discourages us from doing so. It is considered impolite. You are asking yourself to work against a lot of preconditioned dysfunction. Be brave. Find a white friend who is willing to talk with you about whiteness. This person might be someone who has been doing identity work for longer than you and is farther ahead, but you might be best off finding someone who is right where you are. Make a plan to respectfully hold each other accountable. Meet by phone or in person regularly. Have the conversations that scare you. Get it wrong. Try again. Keep going.

What do I do next?

If you have some practice in having conversations with other white folks about race, consider joining an antiracist white group in your area and attending meetings. See additional resources on the bottom of the page for the link to Showing Up for Racial Justice (SURJ). There are local chapters all over the U.S. Depending on where you live, there are also smaller, lesser known groups doing great work. Seek them out.

How do I get unstuck?

Reflect on Michelle Obama’s quote. Who are the white people in your life who you have quietly (or not so quietly) distanced yourself from? How can you begin to have encouraging and authentic conversations with them about race and whiteness? Pick one or two people and invite them out for coffee. It will likely be awkward. Stick with it. Be humble. No one has all the answers. Additionally, if you are feeling extra extroverted, and there isn’t an anti-racist white group in your area, consider starting one. SURJ’s website has resources about how to do that.

 

Until next week,

Stephanie

Week 1: Educate yOURself

Fellow white people,

We have an unfortunate habit of turning to people of color and expecting them to educate us -whether they want to or not- on the history of racism and oppression in our society. It’s unfair and unnecessary. Especially since there are so many published sources of information from people who want to educate us on this topic.

Where do I start?

If you are still unsure how your whiteness impacts the way you view the world and the way the world views you, it’s time to do some reading. In my opinion, everyone should read Dr. Beverly Daniel Tatum’s book Why are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?. Part III: Understanding Whiteness in a White Context is particularly useful for us in our grappling with our own identities. It is exactly the chapter for you if you are struggling to understand how your own variety of oppression (religion, class, gender, sexuality) does not preclude you from experiencing white privilege.

What is the next step?

If you have read Tatum’s work and have a clear understanding of at least some of the ways you experience white privilege and have reflected on how that shows up in your life, I would recommend spending some time diving into Eduardo Bonilla-Silva’s book Racism without Racists. Chapter 3: The Central Frames of Color-Blind Racism and Chapter 4: The Style of Color Blindness are an unflinching look at how progressive white folks still unconsciously (and consciously) perpetuate racism. It will likely give you some deeper insight into understanding yourself and other white folks and the embedded racism in some of our ways of speaking.

How do I get unstuck?

If you have read both of the above books and feel that you have read a substantial amount of race theory in general and have a solid base of the historical context of racism in the U.S. as well as more current events, I encourage you to explore the work of black identified authors. In order to build your capacity for empathy for an experience that is not y[our] own, I suggest reading Ta-Nehisi Coates’ books The Beautiful Struggle and Between the World and Me. I highly recommend reading them both. They broke me open in a way that I really needed to be broken. Because I had a strong understanding of the historical context when I was reading The Beautiful Struggle (a memoir) in particular there were a lot of connections I was able to make in regards to what was going on in the United States more broadly that made my understanding of this individual story even more meaningful. Between the World and Me grants us an intimate look at a complicated and vulnerable conversation we are unlikely to ever need to have with our white children. (Side note: I’m not implying we shouldn’t talk to our kids about racism because we definitely need to be talking about it with our white children. What I am saying is that the conversation is inherently different in that their lives are not at stake. This is a topic for another post though.)

It seems important to point out: I do not have all the answers. My intention is to share information and resources which have been impactful in my growth and development as I continue to be committed to being anti-racist and work to actively disrupt systems of oppression.

These are of course not the only books to read, but I look forward to hearing your thoughts and impressions of them as we build community and accountability among one another.

Until next week,

Stephanie