As a white woman I have felt that something is wrong for a long time but have also been unwilling to give up my position in society to really ask what that thing might be. It’s easy for me to claim ignorance. It’s ugly and true. I haven’t wanted to disrupt my own comfort and I didn’t care enough about the lives of black and brown people to dig deeper into the everyday oppression and violence that I perpetrate every day.
White Supremacy is a disease and no one gets off uninjured. WHY aren’t we (white people) talking about the pain of oppressing others and how we traded our humanity for power?
Maybe it is painful to acknowledge, but I think this question and others like it can be a remedy for the sickness of racism. Since I began to lean into the discomfort and try and talk about it with other people (hey family if you are still here!), something really cool happened. I felt for the first time in my life a feeling of immense relief. In beginning to own my part in participating and sustaining white supremacy, I feel the possibility of becoming deeply human.
Building real connection is possible, but not without honest ownership of the violence and pain that we have caused individually and collectively as white people.
I have a long way to go. And I’m committed to this work for the long run. I see it in the same way I see the practice of moving my human body. Sometimes it feels good and productive and it works with the rest of my life, and sometimes it’s a struggle to show up. But either way, I’m gonna show up. For me, the joy comes with the small bits of regularly practice. Little steps made with care.
My hope is that when I honestly articulate some of my process, in all its messiness, I show other white people (hey family again!) a door into connection and with it the possibility of healing. What do you think?