White Privilege

Last night, I lied awake with a suffocating pain for people I have never met and will never know. I tried to categorize my feelings for everyone suffering from the hands of uncompassionate and irresponsible police officers. I hurt because as a white woman in America, I have been so blinded by the veil which covers my face, hands, and my eyes. My white privilege had secured me from others, but also blinded me from truth. My ignorant silence was not only hurting those in the Black community, it was justifying the racial injustices and brutality of the police force.

I pulled of my veil and for the first time in my life I see the fear that Black men and women are forced to endure. I, who can witness the injustice, am disgusted because as I loose count of the men who have lost their lives this year to the choices of a police officer, know that my privileged comes at a cost to others. For too long, what it took for me to see the truth was more black men dying.

Philando Castile was a man whose life was taken from him. He is also, tragically, the man it took for me to truly, undeniably, see perspective.

Last week, I discovered my driver’s side taillight had burned out. I drove around for days knowing of the infraction, but waited to fix it. Yes, I worried about being pulled over. I worried about getting a slap on the wrist. I worried about getting a ticket. But it never once crossed my mind to worry about being shot and murdered in the front seat of my vehicle. White privilege.

To say that these accounts of murder are isolated incidences is irresponsible. To not credit these deaths as an epidemic against Black men is insensitive and intolerable.

When I started to share my new sights on reality to my fellow friends and family, many where sceptic and more where in disagreement. The almost immediate response is to question the victims background, upbringing, or their actions during the altercations. What my white peers are not understanding is that in every case, murder is not justifiable. Being Black is not a cause for murder.

What scares me most about the attitudes of my white peers is not whether they forget to remember this fact, but if they purposely try to. 

What angers me the most, however, is that the same people who find little to no empathy for the Black community in America, find themselves infuriated by history. When they look back on slavery in America’s early years as a country, they are overcome with feelings of inhumanity. When they think of the civil rights movements in the 1960’s, tears are brought to their eyes as they witness police dogs ferociously backing Black teenagers into a corner, or firetruck hoses drowning protestors in the streets. When they talk about these historical moments of injustice, they credit the ones who advocated for equality and refused to tolerate the harsh racism embedded in society. They are puzzled by the people who stood on the wrong side of history and are encouraged to make choices toward positive change for all.

But, when face to face with the historical injustice we are actually living in, they cower. They see blame to place, but on the wrong side. They see excuses for inhumane behavior. They see none of the similarities between history and today, only the differences.

It is not different. The brutality, racism and injustice that Black Americans live through every day is reality. We must stop reinforcing the divide. As White allies, we must stop using our own experiences with police to argue the encounters African Americans have with them. It is not the same. It is hard to understand because we do not know of the fears which radiate due to the pigment of our skin. We cannot understand first hand. But if we stop justifying our opinions, we can witness and we can listen, and hopefully we can help.

Black Lives Matter does not mean White lives don’t and it doesn’t mean the lives of police officers don’t. Yes, all lives matter.  But not all lives are in danger every day because of it their skin tone or heritage. Right now, we need change for this group of Americans. We need to focus on those who are struggling. Being in support of Black Live Matter does not mean you don’t support the police officers who do serve and protect our nations.

It means supporting equality for African American’s and NOT standing by the percent of police officers who use militarized brutality against them.

Can A Makeover Cause A Makeover?

Some days I hate to be the cynic who analyzes a situation down to its core. Other days, I have no control over it and my brain goes to work. Today is one of those days.

By the year 2020, Harriet Tubman will be the new face of the $20. Ideally, this is great. Its a symbol that both African Americans and Women are important and represented in American government. A long time coming, this is a way to incorporate normality among the minorities in America. Again, yay.

However, I find myself surprisingly annoyed the way that this story is being twisted into a way of justifying these subcultures importance. I can’t help but feel like this is only a tactic for the government to use against claims of injustice. Similar to the claim, “African American are equal. We have a black president now. Racism doesn’t exist anymore” WRONG.

I think about the time and energy (and possible costs) that this change will bring. I’m sure it took hours to create a template. Hours to create, distribute and tally a petition. Hours to conduct the PR efforts. Many, many hours.

But do these hours really mean anything?

I’m sure that from a women’s focus, men will still have more of these newly designed 20’s in their wallets than there professional female counterparts.

From a racial standpoint, I can guarantee that these fancy new bills will not do much to help bring poverty to an end in oppressed urban communities. Or help bring an end to discrimination, healthcare obstacles, and education barriers which reside in African American communities.

So what exactly is the point. Yes, representation is a start. But I fear that this is just a scapegoat for those unaffected by real life prejudices.

“Racism and Feminism are no longer an issue here in America. We have a black women on our bills!”

I cringe at the thought.

I just hope that this is a starting point for real change within these subcultures and not an excuse to excuse unjustifiable behavior. I think its time to stop focusing on what looks like equality in the states and actually strive for real equality. Lets put our time, energy and maybe bills toward real progress which can make positive changes.

On that note, Harriet, you deserve it. I hope your face inspires and represents more than a just makeover in the future.

 

A Tribute To Our Own Hero’s

Happy International Women’s day! 

While I’m sure all of you good feminists are scrolling through a news feed filled with iconic women who have pushed for the progression of women, make sure to recognize the women in your own life who have impacted you. Sure, Gloria is queen and The Notoriois RBG is your spirit animal, but let’s not forget the women who may not be making headlines or are excepts in the history books. Mothers, Grandmother, Aunts, God mothers, cousins, best friends… These are the real life women we tend to forget, but owe so much. 

My biggest inspration is my late Grandmother, Ann. A woman far ahead of her years, she was born in the 1930’s to a semi- traditional Irish Cathloic home. She was raised by a single mother who was never quite pleased with having a daughter. She suffered many occasions of verbal and emotional abuse.

 At a young age she married and was engulfed in an abusive marriage which she escaped by fleeing. Later, she met my grandfather, whom she married in Las Vegas after only knowing him for a few weeks. They moved from Columbus, Ohio to Los Angeles, California where she would call home. My grandmother was unable to bear children of her own so she adopted my mother as a baby and took on the role of housewife and mother. She kept a clean home where she baked and cooked everyday.

In the eighties, my grandfather, Chuck, died from Lukemia. My mother had just graduated high school. Heartbroken and irrational, my grandmother moved them to North Carolina where she wanted a new start. 

My grandmother never remarried, and remained in love with my grandfather until the day she died in 2010. She lived alone in a one story home that she kept orderly where she sipping her nightly gin or scotch, reading mystery romance novels. 

My grandmother was the mouthiest, strongest and most witty person I’ve ever known. Her best friend always tells the story of when she was a secretary. After fetching him one too many cups of Joe,  She told her boss, hand on hip, cigarette between her figures, to “stick his coffee where the sun don’t shine”. Fiesty. 

My grandmother and I were best friends. She watched my every weekday while my parents worked. We’d share a can of soup everyday for lunch and watch Gilmore Girls at 5 pm. She would study with me everyday after school at the kitchen table, and instilled in me that I was smart enough to accomplish what I put my mind too. 

She had the elegance of a 50’s movie star and the mouth of a typical Irish Catholic [I can still hear he exclaiming “God Damnit, Cath” or referring to my father as “that son of a bitch” to my mother during an argument]. 

I was her shinning star, her prize. She loved me as if I was a gift sent specifically to her. Her final 16 years were dedicated loving and caring for me. 

As a girl she encouraged me to always have girlfriends, to not take the bullshit from anyone-especially the neighborhood boys, to go after my goals and to remember to be kind to people. 

She was a flirt and a little bit of a drunk but she was always pure and wore her heart on her sleeve. She was the kind of person who one would never wonder whether she really liked you or not- she made her feelings quite clear.  I loved her for that. 

A couple years after she passed, I found a letter that she wrote me on a shopping list- the kind you find hanging on the fridge in the kitchen. Her words were so beautiful and conforting I tattooed them beside my ankle. Now everyday I still walk with my grandmother. 

So between your posts about Leaning In, or empowering other women to engage in their womanhood, make sure to reflect on the women who empowered you. We are all important and we are all strong when united and recognized.  
 
[From far left: My grandmother, my great-grandmother, my mother and I. Circa 1995]

Empowerment Past the Alter

For me, nothing can compare to hot savory coffee served in a porcelain cup while curling up behind a book or article. Coffee shops are the ultimate best when you have an hour or more to pause, take a breath, and relax while rejuvenating your mind and senses. Inspiration always finds me while sitting at a wooden table by a large elongated window with steam from my cup warming my upper lip and nose.

One early afternoon, I was sipping my latte when I overheard a woman and her daughter talking at a table down from me. Their conversation caught my attention when I heard the woman make the statement “If he’s going to be the next Mark Zuckerberg, then lock him down while you can”.

Too often, young girls are told that to get ahead, you should be with the smart boy in class. Yes, the nerds of the world are finally earning the praise they long deserve. But why is it that girls are only pushed to strive for companionship with the game changers? Why are girls not being motivated to become the academic leaders in the classroom instead of just riding on their coat tails? Why are they not able to be the game changers themselves?

Little girls statistically perform better in the classroom, but society still teaches them that the boys are the only ones who are going places.

These “motivations” really translate when breaking down male dominated fields. Currently, there are only 22 female Fortune 500 CEOs. Since 1789, only 44 women have served in the United States Senate. The Supreme Court now has three female justices serving in addition to Sandra Day O’Connor who served until 2005 which makes up the four women to serve in its entire 220 year history. Women are also underrepresented in STEM careers where they make up only about 25 percent.

Do we all see the problem?

Could it be that by emphasizing the goal of marrying a millionaire, entrepreneur or scientist, we diminish a young girls aspiration to become a leader, innovator or inspiration?

Some of the most influential people in history have been women. Countless authors, leaders, artists, inventors, architects, and activists have been women courageous enough to believe in themselves, their capabilities and their goals. These women have contributed in changing the world. They have paved the way for the next generation of women and girls to take control of their own lives and make their own choices in bettering their futures.

So can we stop limiting their minds to following in the boys footsteps and start encouraging them to take the path less traveled?

And don’t forget to grab a coffee on the way.

-A